Always
by altered phoenix light
Summary: Contains Snape's POV on an event that has major rammifications in Deathly Hallows. MAJOR spoilage involved, so don't say I didn't warn you! One-shot.


Hey, it's me! This is my second fic! Whoo-hoo! I actually was not intending to write this fic, it came to me and I liked it…so here it is. I don't know if anyone else has written anything like this, so I promise that I did not steal this idea from anyone, it all came out of my overly creative but ready-to-write-whatever-comes-to-me brain. WARNING: CONTAINS MAJOR HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILAGE!!! Read at your own risk! I don't want to ruin the best book in the series for you! Go out and read that before you read this, lazy child!

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I'd be rich and certain characters WOULD NOT BE DEAD, just so you know.

Always

The bell in the Hogsmeade clock tower bonged out half past eleven, though I privately thought of it as my own death knell. I was at the threshold of the Shrieking Shack, in the passageway that I nearly had gotten killed in once before, long ago. The darkness and gloom surrounded me. I knew, in my heart of hearts, I was going to die. I knew my role in this carefully constructed charade had come to an end, and that the climax was yet to come.

My footsteps were limited, my heartbeats numbered; the worst part was, I knew it was true. I could not deny that my death was imminent. I knew that the Dark Lord would kill me and think nothing of it. He hoped to master the wand he thought I had won by killing me. My death, as he would find out, would solve nothing for him. I am not the master of the Elder Wand. It belongs to another, the one who disarmed Dumbledore, not me.

I was not foolish enough to stop Death; in fact, I welcome it with open arms, like the third brother of legend. I would be worse than a fool to try to stop my death; I would not fight it, I would embrace it willingly, proud, like a man of courage, like Dumbledore. Hopefully, the Dark Lord would just flick his wand and I would be gone. My death would be quick and painless, which is more than I can say for my life. Even if my fate was to be torture, though, I knew I could endure it if it meant seeing her again, being near her forever afterward.

Did Lily die thinking that I despised her? Did she know how much I always loved her? That I truly loved her? Did she know that by taking care of her son as best I could I was trying to manifest my love for her? Truthfully, I have wanted to die for ages just so that I can be with her again, her and Dumbledore…and now that I come to think of it, even a sight of the Marauders who once made my life hell would be welcome.

This, then, is the difference between heroism and suicide: the man who cares not for his own life and hopes by his death to save others or the man who cares not for his own life and hopes just to end his pain. I am no suicidal coward; the only reason I wish to die is to save Lily's son. His life is far more important than mine. Perhaps I have the heart of a lion residing in me rather than the heart of a snake. Dumbledore always thought so.

Yes, I knew Lily's son's life mattered much more than my own. How was it that I saw the best and worst of his parents in him? How was it that I could simultaneously love and despise the boy? Was it perhaps the thought that he could have been my own son that tormented me so around him? Yet, despite everything, I knew I cared for him deep down. I fooled everyone, including Dumbledore, in this matter. I cared about him from the moment I looked into his eyes and saw his mother. His eyes had never looked upon me like hers had (with mercy and compassion), but they were still the same eyes.

Hopefully, he will know the truth one day. Hopefully, he will see how much I loved his mother and how her love has spared me from a terrible fate. Would I have tried to save the boy's life so many times unless it meant something to me? Would I have wanted to save him if I had thought it was not worth the risk?

I finally found the strength to leave the passageway where I had been standing for some time. I turned the corner, forced myself up the creaking stairs, and faced the door that I knew the Dark Lord lay behind. I pushed it open, steady as I possibly could, and faced the Dark Lord.

"You summoned me, my lord?" My voice was steady as I knelt before him, but my soul shook to its very core. He did not answer me, and my stomach dropped at this blatant sign. But Lily's love kept me strong as I now stood before him. She had been my light, my soul, my breath, my angel, my life. I had never stopped loving her, despite what I had told the Dark Lord and his followers. I wished it to all be over now just so that I could return to her.

"Yes, Severus, I did summon you," he finally answered me, his voice no more than a hiss of malice. I could see my own death reflected in his pitiless red eyes. I had no hope of earthly salvation; my only hope was that I could somehow return to Lily.

And then the awful, painful memories came rushing back to me. It was I who had betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord; it was never Pettigrew's idea, he had no brains but was willing to take the credit for it later. It had all been my idea, my plan, my way to finally win. I thought it would rid me of my archrival and return the love of my life to me. How wrong I was!

I caused her death. It was my fault.

I caused Lily to abandon me. I called her a "Mudblood"; it had always been my fault. I drove her into James' loving arms, and now I am paying the price for it. I am sorry for what I have done in my life, the mistakes I made, the horrible things I did.

Suddenly, my mouth moved mechanically. "My Lord, let me fetch Potter for you—he will come willingly for me." I begged to fetch Harry. I had been given one last task by Dumbledore: I had something to tell him, a message from Dumbledore, the truth about why he was who he was. I had to. But every plea that escaped my lips was met with a resounding refusal. He was testing me, testing my loyalty, but that did not matter to me now. I knew I was going to die regardless of how loyal I sounded. He questioned me, but I feigned ignorance. I hoped he could not see through my lies as I pretended to know nothing about the Elder Wand. But my pretense was not good enough, those eyes told me. I watched as he released the snake from its orbed prison, and felt fear for the first time since Lily died. It dropped to the ground, coiling and undulating on the moth-eaten rug in front of me, waiting expectantly.

So this was to be my manner of death. I heard the Dark Lord hiss that familiar word, the word that I did not have to understand to know its meaning. After that, there was a resounding scream as the fangs dug into me—was it my own? I did not feel any pain, only a death creeping through my veins as the snake's poison wormed its way through my body. My vision was beginning to blur slightly. I could just barely make out the Dark Lord and his pet leaving me. Then there was a voice, whispering to me as if wind through a veil. "Not yet," it said. It sounded so beautiful, so familiar…where had I heard it before? "Not now."

A face swam before me, a face I had hated. It was a face I had formerly despised. But the eyes, Lily's eyes, had been the things to force me to love it. It was Harry. He was here; he had come for me. How had he known that the Dark Lord and I had been here?

He wanted to save me; I could tell. How was it that despite of all I had done to him, he still wanted to save me? Had Dumbledore told him of my feelings for his mother? It did not matter, though, because I was beyond his ability to save. I was beyond any mortal's ability to save.

His hand took mine, and I knew it was almost time to let go. There was just one thing left to do…give him my memories. He needed them because there were some things he just had to know before the final battle, things Dumbledore had not told him. He had to have the knowledge that I was to impart to him. "Take…it," I begged him as the memories flowed out of me. "Take…it."

My job here in this life was done after that. "Look…at…me," I requested Harry. His eyes were the last thing I saw as I let go. My hand dropped to the floor…

But someone caught it, and I felt myself standing on my feet again. Someone's smooth, small hand was clasping my own, pulling me onward through the silvery veil. I felt a peace as I had never felt before, and I knew everything would be okay.

I knew I was finally home. For always.

A/N: Well, thanks for reading! Drop me a line or the monkeys will come for your underwear…


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